


Derek Hale: Original Failwolf

by seraphina_snape



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (badly), 5+1 Things, Crack, Derek is a Failwolf, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Pack Feels, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out, Sheriff Stilinski Finds Out About Derek/Stiles Relationship, because this is total crack, derek hides in bushes, did i mention the crack part?, not even 0.5 percent seriousness in this fic, technically AU i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stilinski and McCall were fully dressed now. Stilinski was waiting while McCall put on his shoes. Further into the room, Weird Creep was hiding behind a row of lockers. Only half his body was still visible. Clearly the guy operated on the old 'if I can't see it, it can't see me' school of stealth. </p><p>Coach Finstock looked back to the boys. McCall was still busy tying his shoes. Either he hadn't noticed or he was avoiding the coach - either was a distinct possibility. Stilinski had a 'lord give me strength' expression on and was shaking his head.</p><p>"Seriously?" Coach Finstock asked. </p><p>"Yeah," Stilinksi said. "Just... don't mention it. It's nothing weird, I swear." </p><p>---</p><p>AKA 5 Times Derek Hale Tries (And Utterly Fails) To Be Stealthy and 1 Time He Totally Knows He Failed</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek Hale: Original Failwolf

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote most of this in, uh, early 2013? But I never finished or posted it because it's utterly ridiculous. But then Derek won a fight against two opponents in 4x02 like it was nothing and I suddenly remembered the whole failwolf Derek Hale thing that was going pretty strong for a while there. So I changed a few things and finished it and here it is. (Originally inspired by this post but especially the tags: http://jebiwonkenobi.tumblr.com/post/38869394768)
> 
> Word of warning: The first section happens early in season 1, but the rest of the fic kind of stretches into an AU season three at least. It isn't mentioned when, exactly, Stiles and Derek's relationship starts in the fic, but in my mind it's somewhere between #5 and #+1. Stiles' age isn't explicitly stated and can be read as either under or over 18, but he is still in high school and in a (sexual) relationship with Derek. Hence the "choose not to use archive warnings" tag. No other warnings apply or are necessary. (Except there's a lot of swearing in some sections. What can I say? Coach has a potty mouth.)
> 
> This story contains no spoilers and it's total crack. Also wishful thinking because the teenagers are all Derek's pack and they're all alive and everyone is happy. Sadly, no Kira or Malia though.
> 
> THANK YOU to Addy for encouraging me to post this despite (or maybe because of) its ridiculousness and for giving it a quick once-over for any typos and the like. ♥

.

**#1: Coach Finstock**

Coach Finstock hadn't originally intended to become a high school economics teacher and coach. But he could have done a lot worse. He had a steady job, mostly regular work hours and he was still one sexy beast. The kids liked him (well, most of them) and he liked the kids (again, most of them) and everything was fine until the weird creep showed up.

Weird Creep just showed up and started hanging around the school, specifically the gym and lacrosse field. Coach Finstock had noticed the guy hiding under the bleachers during lacrosse practice one afternoon. When he noticed Coach Finstock looking in his direction, he'd scampered over to a black muscle car that practically screamed 'I'm a stalker, hear me drive'. 

Coach Finstock decided to keep an eye out. Just to make sure the creep didn't bother any of his students. Some of them were annoying little fucks, but he couldn't very well have some weird creep hang around all day, staring at teenage boys. 

When he saw the guy sneak out of the locker room a few weeks later, Coach Finstock blew his whistle. Weird Creep stopped dead in his tracks for a moment before darting down the hallway. He tripped over an empty bucket on his way out. Coach Finstock wasn't sure what to make of that. On the surface, Weird Creep looked like the ultimate cool guy (the kind he'd hated but secretly wished to be in high school), but the hallway was still echoing with the noise of the bucket crashing against the wall. 

Coach Finstock gave a momentary thought to following the guy, but he'd probably parked right outside and even if he wasn't too smooth on the escape, the guy still looked like he could throw a punch. 

Not that Coach Finstock couldn't take a - that is, deliver a punch himself. But maybe some research was in order first. (Besides, Weird Creep would probably break his thumb because he made a fist with his thumb inside or whatever. Coach Finstock knew the type.)

The locker room door opened and Greenberg stepped out. He tried to weasel past Coach Finstock, but Coach Finstock grabbed him by the back of his sweatshirt and pulled him back. 

"Not so fast, Greenberg. Did you see the weird creep in the locker room? Who was that?"

Greenberg shrugged. "I don't know. Just some guy that Scott knows." 

Coach Finstock frowned. Scott McCall. As in the previously asthmatic kid who couldn't even run a lap around the field without gasping and reaching for his inhaler. Also the kid who had shown some mad skills in the last few practices. So was Weird Creep a dealer?

"What did they talk about?" 

Greenberg shrugged again. "Scott was already in the shower and the guy went to talk to him."

"Oh Christ," Coach Finstock muttered. He let go of Greenberg (and gave him a little shove towards the exit when the kid didn't move fast enough) and headed for the locker room. "McCall! Why are you letting weird creeps touch you in the showers? Am I gonna have to make you watch that 'bad touch' PowerPoint presentation again?" 

McCall, eyes wide, shook his head. "What? Why?" 

"Who was that guy?"

"What guy?"

"The weird creep who just stealthily jogged down the hallway and managed to trip over the one thing standing in said hallway. Greenberg said he was here to talk to you." 

Stilinski, sitting on the bench next to McCall, sniggered. 

"Oh, you mean Derek." Scott shrugged. "He's, like, a friend of the family." 

"Sure, whatever. Lie to me, see if I care." Coach Finstock crossed his arms. "But tell the guy I don't want him in here with all you. He can wait outside. Or text you like a normal person." 

Stilinksi's snigger turned into full-blown laughter. Coach Finstock glared at him and walked back to his office. He'd keep an eye out, make sure the guy was just a random weirdo and not some pervert. Maybe call the cops on him a couple of times, just to make a point. 

Coach Finstock smiled. Yeah, that would work. He reached for his whistle and -- nothing. With a sinking heart he remembered he'd thrown it at Stilinski earlier to shut up his laughter. He headed back to the locker room. If he was lucky, the little shit hadn't done anything unspeakable to the whistle yet. That whistle was holy. It had taken him eight months to find the perfect whistle. Its sound was just on the edge of painful which made it perfect to herd a bunch of teenage boys. 

"Stilinski!" 

Stilinski and McCall were fully dressed now. Stilinski was waiting while McCall put on his shoes. Further into the room, Weird Creep was hiding behind a row of lockers. Only half his body was still visible. Clearly the guy operated on the old 'if I can't see it, it can't see me' school of stealth. 

Coach Finstock looked back to the boys. McCall was still busy tying his shoes. Either he hadn't noticed or he was avoiding the coach - either was a distinct possibility. Stilinski had a 'lord give me strength' expression on and was shaking his head.

"Seriously?" Coach Finstock asked. 

"Yeah," Stilinksi said. "Just... don't mention it. It's nothing weird, I swear." 

Coach Finstock took a second to think it over. On the one hand, Weird Creep was hiding (badly) in the boys' locker room. On the other hand, none of the boys had looked disturbed or creeped out. He could probably let it slide unless it happened again. 

"This was the last time," he said, and Stilinski nodded. 

Coach Finstock was almost at the door when Stilinski said "Hey, coach?" 

Coach Finstock turned around and caught sight of Weird Creep trying to squeeze his ass through the too-small window on top of the last row of lockers. McCall was trying to look nonchalant even though his expression was a mix of embarrassment and panic. 

Stilinski threw him his whistle. "He's harmless. Really." 

Shaking his head, Coach Finstock headed back to his office and called the sheriff.

.

**#2: Sheriff Stilinski**

Derek Hale wasn't exactly the most subtle person. Sure, he could be a complete ghost when he didn't want to be found. But usually he really sucked at being stealthy. Sheriff Stilinski was pretty okay with that, especially because it meant the guy was always relatively easy to find if he had to arrest him (again).

At times, though, when he was being perfectly innocent but wanted to stay hidden for one reason or another, it was kind of painful to watch.

Sheriff Stilinski didn't know what it was about crime scenes that seemed to attract Derek Hale like shit attracted flies. Maybe he was interested in becoming a cop, or he was just a weirdo freak. Possibly both. Either way, though, Sheriff Stilinski had long ago learned to ignore Derek Hale creeping around his crime scenes unless he caught him doing something other than just looking. 

So when Derek Hale appeared at the edge of the woods, slowly inching closer to where he was interviewing two kids who had found a mangled squirrel ("It totally looked like a hand when we found it, Sheriff, I swear!"), Sheriff Stilinski pretended he was deaf and blind to his approach. 

Then one of the kids spotted Hale. Sheriff Stilinski simply shook his head when the boy's eyes snapped to him at the sight of the dark-clad man in the woods. It really wasn't worth the effort. If he acknowledged Hale in any way, Hale would just pathetically try to disappear into the woods. And probably trip over a branch because he was so stealthy he couldn't watch where he was going. (It had happened before. After the sixth time, he'd sent a memo around the department asking everyone to ignore Hale's presence unless he was violating more than the perimeter of an active crime scene.)

Then the other boy also caught sight of Hale and both boys leaned in opposite directions to look around the Sheriff. The younger boy giggled. The Sheriff spun around and watched Hale jog back to his car (hidden poorly behind some shrubbery). 

A minute later Hale's Camaro started with a loud roar and Sheriff Stilinski groaned and rubbed his forehead.

.

**#3: Doctor Deaton**

Even if it hadn't been obvious from the actual dirty footprints on the floor that led straight to the small storage closet off his office, Deaton would have known Derek Hale was around. The animals all grew restless when Derek stepped foot into the practice.

Of course, the Camaro parked outside in the visitor's parking lot (using not one but two spaces) was a dead giveaway, too. Especially since the visitor's parking lot was visible from the office window. 

Scratching his head, Deaton debated his choices. Scott had the afternoon off, so if Derek was there to talk to him, they'd both be in for a long wait. He could hardly lock up and put his usual mountain ash barrier in place with Derek still inside, so he'd have to wait until after Derek had left. And Derek typically wouldn't leave until he'd completed his 'mission'. 

On the other hand, Derek could just be there to look at some of Deaton's research. Hoping fervently for the second option, Deaton grabbed the next patient's file and headed back out to the exam rooms. He treated a dog with indigestion and a guinea pig with an eczema before he made his way back to his office. 

The closet was - thankfully - Derek-free, but the footprints didn't lead to the clinic's front door like Deaton had expected. Instead they made a beeline for the back exit, a way that would lead Derek straight through exam room two and towards the unfortunately locked back exit. 

With a sigh, Deaton watched as his receptionist ushered his next patient Miss Tabby and her owner Mrs. Watson into exam room 2. 

Derek was crouched in the corner of the room, wedged in between the wall and the row of cabinets. He wasn't nearly small enough to be able to hide behind the cabinets, but Deaton didn't let it show. Mrs. Watson had more of a problem to keep her eyes from straying towards Derek. Deaton's lack of acknowledgement visibly confused her.

Deaton examined the cat. He'd operated on Miss Tabby a week ago, removing a small tumor from one of her paws. The wound seemed to be healing fine, even if the cat was a little agitated because of the werewolf badly hiding in the corner of the room. 

"I'm so sorry," Mrs. Watson said. "Miss Tabby always gets a little nervous around strangers," she added, cutting her eyes towards Derek. 

There was a small growling noise from Derek's corner of the room, and Miss Tabby's claws sliced through the latex gloves he was wearing and scratched a deep red stripe into the back of Deaton's hand. He gave the cat an annoyed look, but she simply hissed at him and then tried to hide in her owner's coat. 

"Miss Tabby is just fine, Mrs. Watson. Please set up an appointment in six or seven days to get the stitches removed," he said, holding the door for Mrs. Watson. He took of his white coat, making sure to set it down hard enough that his keys clinked in his pocket. 

"I should go and put something on this scratch," he said. The scratch was deep enough to be bleeding, but nothing he'd need stitches for. He'd have to disinfect it though. 

When Deaton led the next patient into the room, his lab coat was on the floor, the keys were still in the door lock and the back door itself was ajar. Talia would be so ashamed, but he knew she'd have loved her son anyway. Still, Deaton was glad his old friend never had to see this side of Derek.

.

**#4: Chris Argent**

_In a perfect world_ , Christ Argent thought, _there would be no werewolves. Especially not this one._

He was in the mall's parking garage, carrying Allison's bags. Ten feet away sat his daughter's car. And Derek Hale was hiding behind it. 

Chris sighed. He'd been through hunter boot camp. And actual military boot camp. He'd killed dozens of vicious, soulless creatures who had lost all touch with their humanity. But never - ever - had he met anyone like Derek Hale. 

As a born werewolf you'd think Derek Hale had some natural affinity for stalking, hiding and blending into the dark. Instead, Chris could see his ridiculously spiked up hair through the windows. The man couldn't even properly crouch down behind a car. 

Chris caught Allison's eye and glared at her. This was all his daughter's fault. One moment he'd been living a perfectly ordinary, perfectly happy hunter life. And then Allison had started dating a werewolf and somehow he'd started having to deal with Derek Hale. 

Allison gave him an apologetic smile and took out her cell phone. Moments later, Chris' own phone beeped. He shifted all the bags to one hand and looked at the text message. 

_Sorry, dad. We always pretend he's not there._

Chris looked at her and wordlessly asked why anyone would do that. Voluntarily. His phone beeped again.

_He's just training to be the alpha. Don't discourage him._

Chris opened his mouth to reply, but Allison shook her head frantically. She mouthed "Please!" at him. 

Still balancing all the bags, Chris awkwardly typed his reply. Chris really hated the fact that he couldn't spell worth a damn if he didn't have use of both hands.

_But hes so bad at it. why doesnt any1 tell him_

Allison rolled her eyes like the answer was obvious. 

_His family died in a fire! His sad eyes would totally make everyone cry._

Before he could reply, he received another text message. 

_Please, daddy. Please?_

Chris pursed his lips in annoyance. Somehow these days he was always 'daddy' when Allison wanted something. It was like she knew he was helpless against it. He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

"I'm kind of tired, Allison. Do you mind if I stretch out in the back seat on the way home?" It wasn't like he couldn't actually walk around the car to get in on the passenger side, could he? Not with Derek Hale, the worst werewolf in the history of Beacon Hills, failing to hide on that side of the car. 

Allison squealed and threw her arms around him. "Thank you, Daddy!" 

Hale's head popped up for a second and Chris had to close his eyes. Kate hadn't always been the most stable person, and maybe she had been batshit insane towards the end, but for a moment he felt deeply ashamed. His own sister was dead and buried and Derek Hale was alive and pretending to be stealthy. God, he needed a drink.

Chris slid into the backseat. Hale didn't move. 

Chris waited until they were almost at the ramp to the next floor, then asked, "Is he still sitting there?" 

Allison checked the mirror, biting her lip. "...No?" 

"I appreciate the thought, Pumpkin." Chris let his head fall back. "But if you could drive a little faster... I really need a drink."

.

**#5: The entire pack**

"Whoa! Check out gym coach Barbie." Erica grinned and made a show of checking Lydia's outfit. To be fair, Lydia was wearing a (newly-purchased) rose-colored track suit with matching running shoes. The whole ensemble had probably cost more than Stiles got as his monthly allowance. 

"Please, we can't all pull off the strung-out biker chick look." 

Erica rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I was just teasing, but be like that." 

Allison's car pulled up at the Hale house and she and Scott joined the rest of the pack near the edge of the woods.

"Hey, guys! Any idea what today is about?" 

"Derek said something about training us in stealth," Boyd said. 

Every single one of them turned to look at Boyd who just shrugged in a 'what can you do' way.

Stiles groaned. "Oh my god, we'll be here _forever_."

There was a rustling in the underbrush a few feet away. 

Stiles looked at Scott who nodded in response to the unspoken question. "Has anyone seen Derek?" Stiles asked. 

The rustling grew louder until it stopped right beside them. 

"I don't know," Lydia said, smirking slightly. "I think I can--"

"I don't see him either," Allison interrupted. "Maybe that's part of the exercise. Maybe we're supposed to find him."

There was a thump from behind Stiles and Scott, looking past him, rolled his eyes. He raised his phone. Seconds later, Stiles had a new picture message. Derek was clinging to the tree behind him. His body was on the far side of the tree, but his arms and legs were visible, wrapped around the tree trunk from either side. Apparently he'd missed his branch and ended up plastered to the tree trunk. Stiles took a deep breath. They _were_ going to be out here forever. 

"I guess we should spread out," Scott said. "Try and find Derek, you know, ... _stealthily_."

Stiles trudged into the woods, arguing with himself. He had homework to do. If he walked in circles around the Hale house trying to 'find' Derek while completely ignoring the fact that Derek was still quite visibly perched on that same tree, he'd never get home at a decent time. But Derek almost purred every time one of them walked past the tree without even glancing in his direction. It was adorable. Tragically sad, yes, but adorable.

Stiles' phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a mass text sent from Erica to the entire pack, but excluding Derek. 

_Guys. No more. His legs! Are dangling! I want to bite his feet off._

_I kinda have a lot of homework,_ Stiles sent back.

_And Allison and I were going to catch that movie..._

_But he always looks so sad when we find him!_

_It's twenty minutes till sunset; I have plans that don't involve breaking my ankle in a dark forest,_ Lydia texted. _Can someone please get Derek out of that tree and put us all out of our misery?_

"Okay, that's it," came Jackson's voice from somewhere to Stiles' left. "Fuck this!" He tore out of the bushes and stalked over to Derek's tree. "Derek! I know you're in this tree - I can totally see you, man!" 

Derek dropped out of the tree and looked at all of them. Stiles wasn't even sure how to classify that expression. He looked kind of... wistful?

"Very good, Jackson. You're getting better. It only took you three and a half hours to find me." Derek smiled a little. It made him look like a sad, slightly constipated koala. "You almost broke Laura's old record."

"Awesome," Jackson said, his voice monotone. "I have to be home for dinner in twenty minutes. Lydia, do you want a ride?" 

Lydia was at Jackson's car before he had finished the question. Allison and Scott practically ran to Allison's car and Erica and Boyd simply vanished back into the trees. 

Stiles sighed. He knew Derek could do it. The guy had genuinely come out of nowhere enough times to have awesome stalker stealth powers. But it was like he could only do it when no one was watching, like a weird form of performance anxiety that Derek wasn't even aware of. 

"Tragic," Stiles muttered.

"What is?" 

Stiles jerked in surprise when Derek was suddenly right behind him. 

"What is tragic?" Derek asked. 

Stiles mind was unhelpfully blank.

"Scott and Allison," Isaac said. "Something about Scott not remembering what their song is and how he made a mix for Allison but didn't put the song on and now he's on probation." 

Derek made a face and Stiles mouthed a "thank you" at Isaac.

.

**+1: Sheriff Stilinski (reprise)**

"Hey, Stiles!" Sheriff Stilinski called as he jogged up the stairs. "Did you--?"

There was a loud thump and a few creaking noises. Frowning, the Sheriff opened the door to his son's room.

Stiles was sitting on the bed, bare-chested and wrapped in the sheets. His head was fire-truck red. "Dad! I was just, uh, taking a nap." 

Sheriff Stilinski raised an eyebrow. He pointedly looked down at the bare feet poking out from under Stiles' bed and then back up at his son. "Well, I was going to ask if you brought honey from the store. I was going to make the special Stilinski family recipe baklava for dessert today, but if you're too tired, son...?"

"No!" There was a noise like someone bumping against a box of legos that might or might not be stored under someone else's bed. Stiles bit his lip. "I mean, yeah, I'm tired. But I could eat." 

"Uh-huh. I didn't see any honey in the pantry, so--"

"Yeah," Stiles interrupted. "I was hungry when I came home so I made a sandwich. With honey." He grabbed the bottle of honey from the bedside table, blushing worse than ever. 

Sheriff Stilinski mentally counted to ten before he took the honey. "Sandwich. With honey. In your room," he muttered. "We really should talk about this, son." 

"But!" Stiles pointed at the pair of feet. 

Sheriff Stilinski sighed. How much leeway could one guy be granted? Sure, his family was dead and he was always trying so hard, but there had to be a limit. Especially if it involved his son and nakedness and honey.

"Oh, we _are_ talking about this," Sheriff Stilinski decided. "Over dinner. Tonight. You, me, and... you know." Sheriff Stilinski pointed at himself, Stiles and the pair of feet. The left foot twitched slightly. "You have one hour." He made sure to close the door behind him.

Stiles waited a beat, then leaned over the side of the bed. "You can come out now, Derek." 

Derek shuffled out from under the bed and brushed some dust off his arms. There was a dust bunny clinging to his ass and more in his hair. A red lego brick was stuck to his left shoulder above the triskele tattoo. Stiles sighed.

Derek sent a dejected look at the closed door. "He knew I was there, didn't he?" 

Stiles nodded, keeping his expression sympathetic. "Your feet were peeking out from under the bed."

"Damn." Derek looked at the bed, his expression shifting between scowling and confused. Stiles wanted to kiss him and slap him at the same time. If Derek had a superpower - apart from the whole alpha werewolf thing - it would be to be so deadly and badass in one moment and so completely oblivious and useless in the next. 

Half the town thought he was a harmless weirdo who was still hung up over his family dying. Mrs. Cranston from the bakery gave him free cookies. Mr. Lowell was nice enough to let Derek pretend to hide in the shadowy alley behind the theater he owned. Sweet old Mrs. Hamill from next door had been kind enough to let Stiles take down the separating fence between their properties because Derek kept trampling her flowers in an effort to find a stealthy way into the Stilinski backyard. 

Derek had any one of these people eating out of his hand. Stiles had even caught Allison's dad turning a blind eye to Derek creeping across his front lawn. It had to be some kind of master plan, some ruse to throw people off so they would underestimate Derek in the moment of truth. Stiles believed that with all his heart. He really did. (Well, some days.)

"Come here," he said, waving Derek closer. He gently pulled the dust bunnies from Derek's hair. "Let's get a shower. And then we'll have dinner with my dad and if you don't completely blow it - by which I mean that you're to behave like a person - then I'll blow you later." 

Derek grinned. "I like that plan."

"I thought you would," Stiles said, dragging Derek across the hall and into the bathroom.

Downstairs, Sheriff Stilinski switched on the stereo and turned up the volume when the first sex noises filtered down over the sound of the shower. He should have given them ten minutes instead of an hour, but he'd also thought his son would be decent enough to realize how thin the walls were. His gaze fell on his weapons safe and he wondered if he could still bring the shotgun to dinner even if he had known about Stiles and Derek for a few months already. 

There was a particularly loud noise from upstairs, closer to a howl than a shout.

Sheriff Stilinski unlocked his gun safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you got a good laugh out of this story and that you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading!


End file.
